


Double Exposure

by TaleWeaver



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Exhibitionism, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Sequel toExposure.  When her cousin Jon agreed to help her with a project to reclaim her self-confidence through risqué photography, Sansa never dreamed it would lead to them becoming lovers.  But their evolving relationship has given Sansa a new security and confidence, and now she's ready to push the boundaries, on both their photography and their intimacy.





	Double Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> VERY late entry for Jonsa Smut week, summer 2018. For Day 6: Anyone could see
> 
> Also, 'Dothraki wranglers' are my lame attempt at a Westeros substitute for cowboys. Though jeans were apparently around before then.

Having a secret love affair with your cousin was interesting, especially one you'd always been close to.  You could go out with him all you wanted, and none of your family or friends would think anything of it.  On the other hand, you couldn't show any of the usual signs that you were going out with him on a date.  Which mostly meant no fancy outings or restaurants, dating during the school week - because who goes out on dates on weeknights? - and otherwise staying in at his place or hers.  Which was mostly fine with Sansa.  But tonight, she had plans.  
  
"So, you asked me to get my camera ready.  Does that mean we're combining our date with a photography session?" Jon asked, with a - she had to say it - wolfish grin.  
  
This would be their tenth photography session, and six weeks since they'd become lovers.  Since their fourth session, and all the ones since, had ended with passionate lovemaking, it was really no wonder Jon had some obvious hopes of the carnal sort.  
  
"I think I'm ready to take things to the next level," Sansa told him resolutely.  
  
"I've heard you say something like that before," Jon said in a low voice, sliding even nearer to her on the couch.  "It usually involved you getting progressively more naked.  But I've been snapping you full frontal for weeks now.  What did you have in mind?"  
  
Sansa swallowed.  "Well, since I've gotten comfortable exposing my body to you, I thought maybe a more... open location might be nice."  
  
Jon's eyes widened, and his pupils dilated.  "You mean, like... you posing nude outside?"  
  
"Not with anyone around or anything, but - well, yes."  
  
"Sansa, you do realise that our relationship is still new enough that every time I look at you less than fully clothed, I can't resist the urge to fuck you senseless?"  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
"So, you're not just asking me to photograph you nude, but to fuck you outside?”  
  
Sansa nodded again, with a tiny, beseeching, smile.  
  
Jon exhaled noisily.  “Just when and where are you thinking of doing this?  The rooftop garden of your building?"  
  
"I didn't even think of that," Sansa exclaimed.  "Take a mental note for next time."  
  
Jon's eyes held a mixture of intrigue and trepidation - just like when Arya dragged him out to _'try out something I just saw on YouTube'_ \- as he asked, "So what did you have in mind?"  
  
  
   *****  
  
“Seven Hells, Sansa,” Jon breathed out, as Sansa settled on to the bench.  
  
They were on the road next to his apartment building, at the bus stop Jon saw every time he looked out his window.  It was 3AM, and the full moon was at just the right height to shine down between the buildings, flooding the street with silver light.  
  
“I catch the bus here, you know, every time I head to the Dragonpit district.  Do you want me to spend the next three years getting hard every time I’m on the bus?”  
  
Sansa considered the thought, then smiled.  “I rather like that idea.”  
  
“Wicked wench,” Jon shot back with a loving smile.  
  
Sansa had already whipped off her knee length sundress, folded it neatly and sat down on the makeshift cushion.  "So, how do you want me?"  
  
"In as many positions as we can manage, every chance we get."  
  
Sansa giggled.  "Save that thought.  How do you want me to pose?"  
  
"Hmm... all your other poses have been fairly tame - I mean, no gaping legs or anything.  Let's keep that.  Other than that... Hells, Sansy, this whole escapade has been your idea from the start."  
  
"I have to admit," Sansa gave a charming blush, "I didn't really think about this.  I was so busy trying to work out where I could pose that I didn't think about how."  
  
"Then why not like this?  Back straight, hands in your lap - maybe your head turned to the side, like you really are waiting for the late night bus?"  
  
Sansa tilted her head in thought.  "How about standing, with one hand on the bus stop pole?  Then I move back to the bench for your idea?"  
  
"Sounds good," Jon nodded, then turned to move to the small median strip in the center of the road.  He’d be able to get a better perspective from there.  
  
Sansa stood and moved two steps to the bus stop sign.  She wrapped one hand around the pole, then leaned forward slightly, balancing on the balls of her feet.  She turned her head to look down the street, as if searching the traffic.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jon crouch and hold the camera sideways.  His biceps strained against the fabric of his denim shirt, and Sansa let a mischievous smile break out, as she finally realized why he'd changed out of the Castle Black T-shirt he'd been wearing when she came over.  
  
She kept her voice quiet, knowing that it would carry on the deserted street.  "Jon?  Is that the shirt I made for Theon's horse-wrangler outfit?"  
  
Roughly a year ago, Theon had decided to try his hand at being a male stripper, and asked Sansa to help him with making an easy to remove outfit.  For some reason, he'd wanted to be dressed like a wrangler, the last Dothraki horseriders, who'd died out roughly a hundred and twenty years ago with the Essos bison, though not after inventing jeans.  His attempt had been **extremely** short lived, and Sansa had given him a piece of her mind after finding that she'd spent so much time and energy on an outfit that had only been worn twice.  
  
"Yes, it is," Jon chuckled. "No way was I going to get in Theon's pants in any shape or form, but I liked the shirt, and I thought it was a shame that your hard work went to waste. I hoped it just might come in handy sometime."  
  
Sansa's smile turned sly.  Who would have thought that solemn Jon Snow secretly wanted a woman to rip his shirt open?  Because they both knew that that's why the shirt had press-studs instead of buttons to close it, with extra backing on the shirt lapels.  So it could be ripped open as many times as an ardent woman wanted, without having to repair it later.  
  
She strolled back to the bench, and sat back down on her improvised cushion.  She took up the prim pose that Jon had suggested earlier, and licked her lips.  
  
"You know, if you wanted me to make you something...  special... to wear, you only have to ask," she offered.  "Especially if it's something we can both enjoy the benefits of."  
  
"I just might take you up on that, sweetheart," Jon told her, camera once again in position.  "I knew I had a bit more muscle than Theon, no matter if he denies it, but I didn't realise that I'd put on some more since I stole this."  He lowered the camera and strolled across the street to stand at her feet.  "I haven't wanted to wear it for anyone until now."  
  
"It looks good on you," Sansa told him.  "But if you want something that shows off your delicious torso, I can make you something that's a lot more comfortable."  
  
"Delicious, huh?" Jon smirked.  
  
"Ab-so-lute-ly yummy!" Sansa smirked back.  Then she took a deep breath.  "Speaking of yummy..."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"There was one more idea I had.  You've got the suction feet on the camera, right?"  Sansa nodded towards the flat arm on the bench.  "How about some profile shots?"  
  
"I do have the suction feet, but I don't need them for profile shots."  
  
"Actually, I thought maybe you could set the camera to automatic exposure and join me."  Sansa bit her lip and spread her legs.  "I know there's something you've been wanting to do since our first time, and I'm ready to try it."  
  
She moved her fingers down to stroke gently at her slit. Jon's gaze followed their path, and he licked his lips hungrily.  
  
"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed.  "You really do know how to talk me into anything, don't you?"  
  
She didn't move her legs, but rested her hand over her mound as Jon set up the camera.    
  
His eyes gleamed greedily as he knelt between her legs, and Sansa leaned forward.  
  
"Since you went to all the trouble of wearing this shirt," she purred, and ripped his shirt open in one good pull.  If he **had** had buttons on the shirt, every single one of them would be rolling on the pavement.  
  
"Lean back, my darling," Jon all but growled.  "I'll take care of you."  
  
"You always have," Sansa said lovingly.  She rested her shoulders against the bench-back, and slumped just enough so that she could rest her head against the top.  
  
Her heart was already beating so fast, her nipples already hard from the night air and the way she always felt his gaze on her body when he looked at her through his camera's eye.    
  
As Jon bent his head between her legs, she could see his smile, brimming with joyful anticipation.  
  
First, he licked a long, slow strokes from her entrace to the top of her slit, dragging his tongue over her folds.  When he reached the hard nub at the top, he focused his attention there, using his tongue and lips, sucking and flickering until Sansa gasped, her back arching off the bench.  
  
His hands moved to her hips, holding them tightly to keep her where he wanted her.  His lips released her nub, and she almost sobbed in loss, but a warm, gentle breath washed over her folds and made her tingle in another way.    
  
In her mind’s eye, Sansa knew exactly what the camera would see and record; her naked body, arched against the wooden slats of the seat back, her head tilted back until her profile was out of frame.  One long slender leg, fully stretched out and held low, and the other leg slung over the shoulder and back of the man kneeling between her thighs. All that could be seen of him was the profile of broad shoulders and strong arms, straining the sleeves and seams of his too-tight shirt, and a mop of black curls that hovered between her legs, his face too deep in her folds to be seen.  
  
It was like watching erotica and participating in it both at once, and the only thoughts left in Sansa’s head were _This is incredible_ and _Why did it take me so long to be ready for this?_  
  
His lips fastened on her nub again, then his right hand left her hip.  While his tongue played with her clit, he slipped two fingers deep inside her, delicately probing.  Sansa's mind spun and whirled, and she reached down to weave her fingers into Jon's black curls.  When he found that spot that always sent her soaring, he pressed firmly and sucked on her clit at the same time.  
  
Sansa clapped her free hand over her mouth just in time to muffle her scream as she came.  Her whole body went into spams, and she tugged and pulled at Jon's hair as he hurriedly moved his left forearm across her hips to keep her pinned to the bench.  
  
While her body was still limp with pleasure, Jon gently took her in his arms and turned her body so she was lying lengthways on the bench.  Sansa managed to lift one limp foot so that her ankle rested on top of the back, and let her other leg dangle off the bench, balanced on one foot.  As Jon knelt on the bench, he stroked her thigh soothingly with one hand as he undid the button fly on his jeans.  He wore nothing underneath, and his hard cock all but jumped out, straining and eager for her.  
  
"Mmmm," Sansa hummed contentedly, as her desire sharpened again.  "Is that for me?"  
  
Jon's teeth flashed in his shadowed face, in another wolfish grin.  Sansa was starting to recognise that grin; it was sparked by the prospect of sex, and he only gave that grin to her.  
  
"All for you, sweetheart.  Only for you."  
  
Sansa bit her lip, then gave Jon her own wolfish grin in return.  "Then gimme."  
  
Jon leaned forward and braced himself on one forearm under her shoulder, he elbow next to her ribs, and used the other to grasp his shaft.  He rubbed the tip up and down her ridiculously wet slit, then moved it to her entrance. Sansa tilted her hips slightly, and he pushed forward, sliding in to the hilt in one slow stroke.  Once he’d bottomed out inside her, Jon simply waited for a few moments, his cock nestled deep and snug inside her while he shifted his other arm to even his balance.  Once he was settled comfortably on top of her, Sansa clenched her inner muscles around him, making Jon groan helplessly, and he pulled out until only the tip of his cock was still in her, before pushed forward again in the same controlled movement.  He fucked her deep and slow, just the way they both liked best.  
  
She could feel the muscles of his back and shoulders trembling under her hands from the strain of keeping his body under such strict control, and the thought of him denying himself to give her more pleasure ignited her own passion, making her writhe underneath him as her nails dragged down his back, hard enough that he’d feel it but keeping herself from breaking skin or causing him pain.  
  
She knew he was close, and gave a moan of appreciation and need as he moved in short, hard strokes that made the tip of his erection continually rub back and forth over just the right place.  As he sped up, slamming into her now, Sansa started pushing back into him, their bodies slapping together loudly, until she cried out as she clenched down on his cock.  They were holding each other so tightly that she could feel the ripple of his muscles as he arched and stiffened.  Jon groaned, her climax triggering his, and she felt him spurting inside her.  
  
Jon shifted his body just enough to rest his head on her shoulder, still shuddering from aftershocks.  Sansa panted for breath, her mind whirling, and all she could think about was what a **fantastic** idea this had been.  
  
"Sansa?"  
  
"Yes, beloved?"  
  
"We were right, the first time.  This is it.  The real thing.  We're never going to get sick of each other, and we're going to be together until the stars burn out."  
  
"Yes, we will," Sansa agreed, stroking his hair.  "Tomorrow, we catch Mother and Father for lunch and call your Mum.  We tell them.  We're together, and we're serious.  We're in love, and we want them to know first."  She giggled, "Let's see how long it takes the others to figure it out."  
  
Jon lifted his head just enough to look her in the eyes.  "I say Bran works it out first."  
  
"Agreed.  But Arya's going to be the first to say something."  
  
"What if she doesn't?" Jon asked, his eyes gleaming.  
  
"You get to run the next photoshoot," Sansa offered.  "Pose, location, setup, and the position we have sex in afterwards."  
  
"I suppose it doesn't count if I drop a hint to Theon?  Because Robb's not going to have any clue until someone passes him a note."  
  
"No hints," Sansa frowned.  "If you do, I'll make you shoot me fully dressed."  
  
"Saansaa!" Jon whined.  "Okay, fine.  Let's fix our clothes and go upstairs."  
  
"Excellent idea.  Don't forget the camera.  We’ve never had a photo session featuring your kitchen table, have we?"  
  
"For you, my sweet girl, anything."


End file.
